We Could Wait Forever
by SilverStarsAndMoons
Summary: Kurt, Finn, Blaine, Rachel, Quinn, Brittany and Santana go camping and end up being stalked by a crazed psycho killer. Will they be able to escape? Warnings: Multiple character death, gore, upsetting situations, suicide


No one took the warnings seriously. Who could? Serial killers in Ohio were so out of anyone's realm of possibility that the Glee club basically laughed and planned their trip anyway. Who was possibly interesting enough in Lima to want to kill, especially a bunch of high school kids drinking and laughing at the edge of a small lake in the state park?

Looking back on it now, there were signs something was seriously wrong . . . signs way before they first found Brittany dead at the edge of the campfire on Saturday morning. They just didn't want to believe it, thinking that it was a joke played by Karofsky and his friends.

Maybe that's the problem. Maybe this sort of news is just so unbelievable that the only way to process it is to ignore it.

Huddled in the tent, they can hear him outside . . . they can see his shadow against the canvas in the moonlight. He has them hostage here.

Maybe if they keep thinking it's a dream, it really will be.

/~/

"I am NOT taking my car to some dirty park," complained Kurt, slinging his backpack over his back, the Thursday before the four-day weekend break in May. "I just had it detailed. And anyway, why can't we take Finn's truck? He's got that whole flatbed for all our stuff."

Rachel sighed. "Kurt, listen to me. We need more than one car, okay? Finn will be taking his truck, but your SUV is the only vehicle big enough to take all of us." She paused to count on her fingers. "You, me, Finn, Santana, Brittany, Quinn, and Blaine. That's seven people and your car holds at least five more people besides you. I can ride with Finn, so you can take everyone else."

Santana nodded, looking annoyed. "As much as I hate to agree with Berry, it's true. My car is small, Brittany can't drive, so she can't borrow her mom's van, I wouldn't trust Blaine behind a wheel if it was the last thing I did, and Finn's truck only holds three people. Suck it up, Kurt."

Blaine glared at her. "I'm not that bad of a driver."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Fine. But there will be rules, okay? No getting in with muddy feet, no sitting on the seats with wet bathing suits . . ." He trailed off as he realized no one was listening to him. Rachel was running her finger down the campsite permit.

"So we're allowed at least three tents, there's a fire pit, it's right on the lake . . . do we really need anything else?"

"What about bathrooms?" asked Brittany. "I don't know if I can, you know, go in a hole or something that Finn digs in the ground. I'm just not cut out for that kind of roughing it."

Blaine laughed. "There's an outhouse right on the campsite, Brit. No worries."

Rachel grimaced. "Let's not talk about that. I don't really want to think about how I'm going to bring myself to use an outhouse."

Finn slung an arm around his girlfriend's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Part of camping is getting down and dirty."

Kurt frowned up at his stepbrother. "That's why I suggested going to the day spa in town. It's clean, it's fun, it's relaxing, they have a pool . . ."

Finn ignored Kurt. "It's going to be fun, okay, guys? I've gone camping every year with my mom for as long as I can remember. It's only until Sunday night anyway."

Rachel seemed to cheer up at that. "I for one think it might be good to experience something new. Even if I can't shower until Sunday . . ."

"So, Ru Paul, what's your hair going to look like by then?" Santana leaned forward to pull on one of Rachel's immaculate locks. "Are we going to need to spray you down to get your head to fit in Finn's truck or will you just ride in the flatbed?"

As Rachel and Santana began to argue, Kurt turned back to Finn. "Are you sure this is going to work? I mean, I would have been fine if it was just you, Rachel, Blaine and I. Why did you invite the others?"

Finn shrugged. "Brittany and Santana were there when I was talking about going, and I feel like Quinn's been on the outside of the group this year. Maybe she'll feel a little more included and stop trying to plan revenge on everyone."

Kurt shrugged, as well. "Maybe. But I don't see this working out very well."

If only that had been the sole issue on the trip . . . if only that had been the only problem they'd run into.

/~/

When they pulled up to the campsite on early Friday afternoon, everyone was in a good mood and tumbled out of the seats of the car like puppies, giggling and laughing. Everyone, that was, except for Kurt.

"Already my car has dirt in it from your shoes," he complained to the group on the hour-long drive up to the park. "I can't imagine what it's going to look like after this weekend."

"Oh, shut up," snapped Santana, slinging an arm around Brittany. "I don't want to hear it all weekend."

Finn helped Rachel out of the truck's cab and then began to swing the gear to the ground. "Look, I'm going to need some help setting up. Blaine, Kurt and I will start setting up the tents. Rach, you and Quinn start the fire. Brittany and Santana, can you go and get water? The spigot is about a five minute walk from here, and you'll need to probably make two trips. Don't drink the water out of the lake. It's not safe."

Rachel looked up at Finn with admiring eyes. He was so in charge, so in his element . . . it was kind of hot. Kurt just rolled his eyes, pushing his hair out of his face.

"I'd rather start the fire."

"Fine. Rach, can you help me with the tents?"

"Of course!" She jumped up and smoothed down her crisp new hoodie and jeans, bought especially for this trip.

The tents weren't easy to set up. They were old fashioned, with ropes and pegs and wooden ridgepoles, and as Blaine's only experience were with pop-up versions that you just shook out and the tent was set up, he looked confused. "Finn, you're going to have to hold the top of it up. I can't hold it and hammer the pegs in."

"Well, maybe Rachel can hammer the pegs in while you and I hold it." Finn shot a look at his tiny girlfriend, who was struggling to reach the top of the tent as it was.

Eventually, with a lot of struggling and swearing from Blaine and Finn and a few sore fingers from Rachel wielding the hammer, the first tent was up, leaning at a slightly drunken angle. Finn looked at it critically.

"I don't know if that's going to stay up." He walked over and adjusted it, and the pegs at the back sprung free of the ground, the entire back side of the tent caving in. He swore. "Yeah. I thought so."

Looking over at Kurt and Quinn, he saw the fire wasn't going that well, either.

"This wood is damp," complained Quinn. "I can't get it going."

"You also used up all the matches we were given, too, though," Kurt reminded her, and she frowned at him.

"You didn't do anything except sit there and examine your nails!"

Finn walked over to stand between them. "Okay. There's an easy way to do this." He picked up some of the wood that Quinn had brought from the pile beside the campsite and set up a tripod-like structure. "It's not actually that damp. The kindling you're using is, though." He gathered some leaves and dry sticks and put them in the tripod, and in a second, with his own pack of matches, had a decent fire going. He smiled at Kurt and Quinn.

"See? Easy."

"For you," bitched Kurt, but he got up. "I see the tent situation isn't going well?" Both he and Finn looked across the campsite to where Rachel and Blaine were struggling with the second tent. It fell heavily in a heap on the dusty ground. Finn sighed.

"Has anyone seen the girls? They should have been back with water by now."

Just then, Santana and Brittany came into view. Santana was struggling to carry both jugs of water, which seemed odd until Kurt noticed that Brittany was crying. He ran over to them.

"What happened?" Kurt normally wasn't that concerned with Brittany, as she got upset rather easily at stupid things, but if Santana was putting up with her tears without trying to even comfort her, then there had to be something wrong. Sure enough, Santana looked a little pale, too.

"We saw a dead squirrel on the path to the water spigot," she said. Kurt frowned.

"So?"

"So, it had its head chopped off and its guts spread across the path, okay?" She shoved one of the jugs into his arms and put the other carefully on the ground, turning to hug her girlfriend.

Quinn, by this time, had come up to the little group and heard Santana's story. "What?"

"Yeah. This wasn't some squirrel just kicking off of old age. It really upset Brit, okay?"

Quinn put an awkward hand on Brittany's shoulder. "It's okay, Brittany. It's probably just someone's idea of a sick joke."

"That poor little squirrel," she sobbed. "What a horrible way to die. I mean, it might have been better if it was some kind of animal that killed him for food or something but this is just awful."

Santana kissed Brittany's cheek. "It's okay. Quinn can help me with the rest of the water, right, Q?" She shot Quinn a threatening look and Quinn nodded.

"Come and help Rachel and Blaine set up the tents, Brit," said Finn, putting an arm around her shoulders. But he couldn't help but shoot a quizzical look at Kurt, who returned it.

Was it Karofsky and his gang? This really didn't seem like their style.

Who else knew they were up here?

/~/

The tents finally got set up just as the sun began to set, and the group sprawled around the fire, some sitting on blankets, others on canvas directors' chairs. They were discussing dinner.

"I hate hot dogs," complained Rachel. "And anyway, I'm back on my vegan kick. I don't particularly want to eat mashed-up remains of road kill."

Brittany turned a little green in the firelight and Santana glared at Rachel. "Shut up, Berry. Maybe we all haven't been brought up on organic leaves and grain-fed beef like you have. I like hot dogs," she said, turning her attention to Finn. "Break them out, chubs."

Kurt pulled out a foil-wrapped meal of meat, potatoes and vegetables from the cooler. "My dad taught me to do this when we used to camp. You put it in the fire" – he dropped it in – "and leave it for a bit. It roasts up really well."

Rachel looked interested. "Do you have anything else in there?"

"There are these carrots and celery sticks. I guess you could eat those." He tossed her a bag of the veggies and she began to munch. Quinn was rummaging in the cooler as well.

"I found some hot dogs and buns," she said, and handed them to Finn. "There are some chips, too."

"If we were really roughing it," said Blaine, munching on one of Rachel's carrots, "We should catch fish and cook them."

"The fish in that lake . . . ugh," said Finn. "But be my guest. If you like three-eyed fish." He grinned at Blaine, who after a moment, grinned back, recognizing a joke.

Soon enough, the hot dogs were sizzling over the fire and Kurt had made Rachel her own little foil meal of potatoes and vegetables.

"Is there any horseradish?" asked Brittany through a mouthful of hot dog. "I like a bit of spice."

Quinn looked in the cooler. "Funnily enough, there is," she said, giving Finn a quizzical look and pulling it out. She tossed it to Brittany, who began to spread it liberally over her hot dog using a camp fork.

"Last one to finish gets to do dishes!" called Finn, and then quickly jammed the rest of his hot dog in his mouth, swigging from the beer he'd brought. Already, he and Blaine were looking kind of tipsy, while Santana was full-out drunk. They'd started drinking after the tents were finally up.

"If I did dishes now, I'd fall in the water and sink like a stone," complained Rachel, who refused to touch the beer. Instead, she and Quinn were drinking wine coolers. "I'm so full."

"Dishes can wait til morning, Finn, come on," said Kurt. "There's only a couple of forks and knives anyway, everyone else used paper plates. Just relax around the fire a bit. Grab some blankets for us."

Finn shrugged. "Fine with me." He rose and began to walk towards the nearest tent to grab some blankets. There were two tents erected on the site. He, Rachel, Blaine and Kurt would share one, and Brittany, Santana and Quinn would share the other. As he came up to the tent and started to unzip the opening, he tripped over something and then gasped.

There was another dead squirrel, this time lying right in front of the door of the tent.

Rachel, who had come up behind him, let out a shocked scream as the beam of her flashlight picked up the gory mess and she whirled to talk to Santana, who was getting a blanket for Brittany and herself. "Keep Brittany down at the fire," she hissed through her teeth. "She doesn't need to see this, too."

Santana gasped as well and then shone her flashlight beam into the woods behind the tent. "I don't know how we couldn't have heard anyone. The campsite isn't that big."

"We were being pretty loud," said Rachel, her teeth chattering with cold and fear. "I guess he must have snuck up between the tents."

"Well," said Finn, glad that it was dark so no one could see how pale he was, "we need to figure this out. Do you guys want to leave?"

Santana looked unsure, but Rachel shook her head. "We can't decide that ourselves. We need to talk to the group. We all paid for this campsite until Sunday, so we've only got another day and a night. If it's Karofsky and his goons, then he'll give up if we don't react."

Finn got the blankets he needed and threw one to Santana. "Come on. We've got to talk to the others."

The group huddled under blankets around the dying fire, everyone's eyes large and scared. Brittany didn't cry this time upon hearing about the dead squirrel, which Finn had removed gingerly by taking a stick and throwing it into the woods behind the tents, but she looked frightened and wouldn't let go of Santana's hand.

Kurt sighed. "I just don't think that two dead squirrels is something to be scared about."

"Well, fine, but . . . they're not just two dead squirrels, are they?" snapped Quinn, hugging her knees. "They're some idiot trying to scare us away. And it's working."

"You guys haven't thought that it might be that psycho serial killer on the news, have you?" Blaine's voice was almost inaudible. "I heard something about how he tortures family pets before he kills people."

Everyone fell silent and Rachel buried her head in Finn's shoulder. Kurt looked at Blaine, stricken.

"And you're bringing this up NOW?" He smacked his boyfriend lightly on the shoulder. "Nice. Nice, Blaine. Bring this up now in the dead of night."

Santana snapped at everyone. "Shut up. You're scaring us all, and anyway, the news said nothing about that guy being anywhere near this part of the state."

Rachel began to whine plaintively. "I want to go home. Tonight."

"Me, too," agreed Brittany, her teeth chattering. "I don't like camping."

Kurt sighed in annoyance. "Will you all stop blowing stuff out of proportion? And Blaine, shut up about a serial killer, okay?" He put a hand on Blaine's shoulder to soften his words. "There's no one trying to kill us. Someone is trying to scare us. Finn? Right?" He looked at his stepbrother for support.

Finn nodded slowly. "Right. It's fine, guys. Just relax. Someone's just being stupid."

Quinn, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "All the same, I'm not comfortable staying here with people trying to ruin our good time. Maybe someone could ride with Finn down to the ranger station to ask if they could come and guard our campsite tonight."

Blaine looked interested. "There's an idea."

"We're drunk, Quinn," snapped Santana, her words slurring as if to prove her point. "And most of us are underage. Not sure about grandpa over there," she said, jerking her head at Finn, who rolled his eyes. "I don't know how many times he failed a grade. But the minute they see we're drunk, we'll be kicked out of the park and probably arrested or something. Don't be stupid. We can't go down there."

"Well, Brittany could. She hasn't had anything to drink," said Rachel, sounding a little choked up. "Maybe if she and Quinn drove down . . ."

"Quinn's had at least four wine coolers, Rach," said Finn gently. "Look, we'll all go down in the morning, okay? They've probably given up for the night anyway. Let's all go to bed and sleep it off, and then in the morning, we'll figure out if we want to leave."

Rachel sniffled, but gave in, and she walked up to the tents with Blaine, Quinn, Brittany and Santana as Kurt and Finn doused the fire.

"I'm sure it's fine, Finn. Stop looking so worried." Kurt tried to smile at him. "And anyway, I'm pretty sure the girls will have had enough by tomorrow night anyway. I didn't really think we'd stay all the way til Sunday."

"The girls?" Finn grinned at his stepbrother. "Don't you mean, you?"

Kurt grimaced at him. "Don't tell anyone else I said that."

Finn grinned back and clapped his brother on the shoulder as they walked up to the tents in the moonlight. "No sex tonight, please."

"You, neither!" spat Kurt, and then they giggled again. Santana's voice floated out from the other tent.

"I don't want to hear anyone getting it on! I want to sleep, I have a splitting headache!"

Silence fell over the campsite, then, but down by the fire, a figure picked up the lid from Brittany's horseradish and dropped it onto the dying embers. The lettering on the can faded to black from the smoke as the figure concealed itself in the brush next to the outhouse.

The only movement then was the flash of moonlight from the knife dangling by his side.

/~/

It was about four in the morning when Brittany woke up – she had to pee.

"San," she whispered, shaking her girlfriend. "San. I have to pee, wake up."

Santana groaned. "Brittany, you're eighteen . . . you can use the bathroom alone," she whispered wearily, turning over in her sleeping bag. "Now shut up."

Brittany sighed. "I don't want to go out there alone." From Santana's other side, Quinn sighed deeply in her sleep and rolled over as well.

"Then wait til morning. I'm sleeping." Santana pulled Brittany back down into the warm embrace of the sleeping bag. The night was chilly. "Come on, babe. Go back to sleep."

"I can't. I really have to pee. Please come with me?"

"Then just go outside and squat beside the tent. No one will know and that way you don't have to walk all the way to the outhouse, okay?" Santana was already drifting back to sleep. "You don't need me," she murmured.

Brittany sighed and looked worried, but nature's call won out and she stepped over her girlfriend and poked her head out of the tent. The moonlight was extremely bright on the lake, and it was almost as light as day. She decided to forgo a flashlight and shrugging on her hoodie, she slipped into the flip flops by the door of the tent and made her way out of the tent and closer to the fire pit, where it was brighter and away from the woods.

She didn't really want to pee in the outhouse. It was smelly and disgusting, and anyway, it was dark and scary in that corner of the campsite. She decided to walk down to the small beach, just beyond the fire pit, and pee close to the lake. That way, she was out in the open and it was still bright enough to see, but not disgusting enough to pee in the actual campsite.

Brittany turned away from the fire to begin walking, but things happened so fast, one after the other, that she wouldn't have seen them coming even if she had been on her guard.

The slash of the knife across her back was the first thing she felt, and her full bladder released all over the flip flops she was wearing. Beginning to scream, she turned to run back towards the tents, her hand flying to her back, where she could feel a slit in the cloth of her hoodie, but someone grabbed her from behind, stifling any sound she could make.

Pressing fingers into the back of her neck, the killer managed to make Brittany lose consciousness, and then with a swift motion, he slit her throat. Warm blood poured over his fingers and dripped glutinously onto the packed dirt around the fire pit. Leaving the body in its own urine and blood, he slit Brittany's stomach open as well, letting her intestines spill onto the sandy path.

Then, without making a noise, he disappeared back into the shadows, his tongue licking the warm blood from his fingers.

/~/

Santana was the first to wake up four hours later, her own bladder waking her. Her head was splitting open, and she grimaced and groaned as she practically fell over Quinn to get to the door of the tent. She stopped short, however, and blinked her eyes twice as she saw the tent door hanging partway open on its zipper.

That's when she realized that Brittany hadn't come back to bed last night.

Santana's blood drained from her face.

Pulling open the door of the tent and waking Quinn in the process, she stumbled out and fell over the threshold of the tent's door, her dark eyes frantically scanning the campsite, which was bathed in the morning light of another beautiful May day.

"Brittany? Brit?" Santana called, pulling on her flip flops by the door of the tent and flapping down to the fire pit. "Brittany – AGHHH!"

Her arms draped over the fire pit's stones, her blonde hair dyed red by her own blood, and her eyes glassily staring up to the pale blue sky, Brittany lay beside the fire pit, her throat black and congealed by her own gluey blood. Flies buzzed around the open wound on her throat and stomach, and the stench of old urine and blood was overwhelming.

Santana turned away and vomited loudly, waking up the rest of the group in the process.

Quinn was the first to exit her tent, and her scream brought Rachel, Finn, Kurt and Blaine stumbling out from theirs. Their collective screams could have woken an entire score of campsites, but after the noise died away, the only sound was the birds beginning to wake up in the trees.

Rachel burst into tears, and Kurt held Blaine's hand tightly, his face frozen into a mask of shock. Blaine's face was completely white, and he seemed unable to move or do anything.

Finn was the first one to come out of his shocked reverie. "Shit, shit, shit."

"I told you we should have sent someone last night," wept Rachel. "We should have had someone guarding us. I want to go home now!" she screamed.

"What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck . . ." Blaine's muttering cut through the group's shock and Santana, her eyes wild, slapped Blaine with a cracking noise.

"Shut up! Shut UP!"

Finn, his hands shaking, turned towards the tents. "I'm going to drive down there right now, I'm going to get a ranger, and we're going to get out of here. You guys start packing your stuff. Just, let's get the fuck out, let's just go . . ."

He started to walk shakily, Kurt on his heels. "I'm going with you, Finn. I'm coming with you. I don't want to be left alone!" His voice broke.

"You've got to stay with Blaine, dude. Look at his face."

Blaine had sunk down beside the body, his face so white it was like the blood on the ground was his own, drained out of him. Finn managed to put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "You have to keep an eye on everyone."

Kurt hung back as Finn fumbled his keys out of the pocket of his jeans, lying on the floor of the tent. Rachel, Quinn and Santana were huddled together as far away from Brittany as they could get. He looked up at Finn.

"What do we do with . . . Brittany?" He couldn't bring himself to say "the body."

"Leave her where she is. The police will want to do stuff, take samples and shit." Finn vaguely remembered an episode of CSI he'd seen. "They're going to want to do an autopsy on her, see how she was killed." He tossed Kurt one of the blankets from the tent. "Throw this over her. That will keep everyone from staring at her until I can bring the rangers back."

Kurt walked back towards the group at the fire pit, and Finn jumped into the truck, behind the tents. But when he turned the key, nothing happened. Not even a growl of the engine. Nothing.

He hopped out and popped the hood, looking into the engine. He couldn't find anything wrong, so he called Kurt, who had come back up from the fire pit and was in the tent, pulling on clothes. "Kurt! Get over here!"

Kurt came running over. "Why aren't you gone yet?"

"The car won't start." Finn stepped aside so that Kurt could look at the engine, and the shorter boy rummaged under the hood for a few moments, and then looked up with a pale face.

"Finn. Someone's disabled your car." He immediately ran over to his own car, pulling the keys from his jean pocket, and tried to start the SUV. The same thing happened – the engine refused to turn over.

"What the fuck," whispered Finn.

"Okay. Don't panic. Maybe the battery's dead or something," said Kurt, though he knew that wasn't the case. Both batteries had been changed just two weeks ago by Burt. Finn shook his head, slowly.

"It's not the battery. Kurt, it's the person who killed Brittany. They've disabled our cars. We can't get out."

The stepbrothers looked at each other, stricken, and then Finn shook himself. "I'll start walking down. Someone has to bring the rangers back, it'll be about an hour's walk, but I've got to get them. We're not safe here."

"We should have left last night," moaned Kurt. "I was so stupid for telling us to stay."

"Hey. You didn't know that it wasn't some trick, that this was real. None of us did." Finn turned towards the tents. "I need to put on some clothes. You go back down and try to distract everyone. Don't tell them about the cars."

"What? Finn, are you crazy? Don't tell them we can't get out?"

"Do you want them to panic?"

"No, but – "

"It doesn't make sense to tell them now, okay? We can tell them when the rangers are here." Finn looked at Kurt sympathetically. "I know it's scary. I know, okay, but I'm going to get the rangers as quickly as I can. I'll be back in an hour, tops."

He walked briskly off towards the tents, and Kurt wandered back down to the fire pit, where the girls and Blaine were still sitting, staring at Brittany's dead body.

"Finn is going to find the rangers," said Kurt, sitting down beside Blaine. "And we need to move Brittany away from the fire pit so that we can start a fire, okay?"

Rachel shook her head quietly, and Quinn clasped Santana's hand. "I can't move her."

"Well, we need to start a fire, because otherwise, none of us are eating."

Santana stared straight ahead, her cheeks dirty and tearstained, and Rachel cuddled on the other side of her. "I don't think anyone is hungry, Kurt," she said.

"She's dead, and there's someone out there," said Santana bluntly, her voice barely audible. "There's someone out there. THERE'S SOMEONE OUT THERE!" she screamed, and Rachel burst into fresh tears while Quinn tried to cuddle them both.

"Look!" Kurt tried to shake sense into them, the way Finn did to him. "This isn't helping! Finn will be back soon. We need to pull ourselves together." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and fear. "At least go and get dressed and pack your stuff, okay? We can at least break camp."

He tossed a blanket over Brittany, effectively shutting out her staring, glassy eyes and grotesque, bloody body, and it seemed to break the spell over everyone. Blaine was the first to get to his feet.

"Kurt's right. We need to break camp." His voice started to gain a little strength. "And then we're going to be spending a long day with the police and our parents after this, so we're going to need to eat something. We don't need to cook. We can eat some of the cold things from the cooler."

Rachel got slowly to her feet. "We can at least get dressed." She started to stumble towards the tents, and then turned back to grab Quinn's hand. "Don't leave me," she warned Quinn, and Quinn nodded, her face looking stricken.

"Come on, San," said Kurt, and gently lifted Santana to her feet. The normally sarcastic, cutting girl was completely quiet and said nothing as Kurt walked her up to the tent and helped her inside to dress. He zipped the tent up quietly and stood guard as he heard Quinn and Rachel in the next tent. After both girls came out, Quinn ducked into her tent to help Santana and dress herself. Blaine entered the tent and Kurt climbed in after him.

"This is so fucked up," whispered Blaine, and Kurt kissed him, trying to shake the stricken look from his face.

"Finn's going to be back really soon. Don't tell the girls, but the cars aren't running. He's had to walk down there. But he won't be more than an hour; we drove past the ranger station on the way up. You know how close it is."

Blaine, if anything, looked more frightened. "The cars aren't running? What happened to them?"

Kurt laid a hand over his mouth. "Keep your voice down. I think the killer disabled them. Either way, Finn will bring back the rangers and we'll be out of here by noon."

Blaine stared at Kurt, trying to believe him, and then nodded slowly. "Yeah. It's not more than an hour from here to there."

"Exactly. Now come on, let's get dressed."

Kurt stared out of the tent window at the cars, willing Finn to come back as fast as he could. He wasn't sure how long he could keep this secret quiet.

/~/

Finn walked briskly down from the campsite, trying to keep his pace steady while looking around and keeping himself on his guard. The surrounding campsites were completely empty, which he supposed wasn't really anything to be surprised about. They'd picked the weekend after Memorial Day because they all had a professional activity day and a school holiday at school, which meant that people weren't really looking to camp this early in the season. He had also picked a campsite far from the ranger station because they were drinking and he really didn't want them to get caught.

Finn regretted that now, but it was too late to change it now. Either way, he calculated he was about halfway down the main road now, and should be seeing the station in about thirty minutes.

So focused was he on getting to the station that he, like Brittany, never saw the killer coming. The flash of the knife was the first that that caught his eye, but by the time he opened his mouth to scream, he was already dead.

Lying in a pool of his own blood on the main road, Finn also didn't know that the killer had already taken care of the three rangers on duty in the nearest station, and in this part of the park, the Glee kids were the only ones camping for at least two miles.

They were truly alone now.

/~/

Two hours had passed since Finn had left, and Kurt could no longer deny that he was worried. He walked up and down the campsite, past Brittany's covered body, past Rachel, Quinn and Santana, and out to the road. Blaine watched him worriedly, and then on his last trip by the group, pulled Kurt aside.

"When was Finn supposed to be back, Kurt?"

Kurt turned worried eyes on his boyfriend. "At least an hour ago. This is really making me nervous."

"Is there any way out of this park? Any way to get help?" Blaine pulled out his phone, but the "No Service" message flashed at him dolefully. "I guess I could walk til I found service."

"Blaine, there is no service in this park. You're not going to get anything until we leave the park altogether." Kurt sighed shakily. "I guess we'll have to send someone else out after him, and to find the rangers."

"Well, someone has to stay with the girls, Santana especially."

"Quinn can hold the fort down if you and I decide to go. I'm going to work on the cars and see if I can get one of them working. Can you go and check on the girls?"

Blaine started to get up, but both boys were shocked into silence by Quinn's long, curling scream.

Immediately, they both bolted into the campsite's clearing to find Santana on the ground, bleeding out.

"She's still alive," gasped Quinn. "I think she did this to herself." She was trying to bind Santana's wrists, both of which were cut savagely open with tendons and bones visible, a jagged piece of a beer bottle beside her.

"Don't want to live without her," murmured Santana, turning her pale face towards Brittany's body. "Leave me alone."

"Why weren't you watching her?" screamed Kurt, trying to staunch the bleeding on the other side of Santana, having ripped off his shirt. "Why wasn't anyone watching her?"

"I was," gasped Rachel, who was standing, pale as a ghost, at Santana's feet. "She had to go to the outhouse, so I followed her, but it was too late."

"Fuck," snapped Kurt to no one in particular, the curse uncharacteristic and causing Blaine to stare at him in surprise. "I can't find Finn, either. The cars aren't working. We're stuck here."

As he said that, Santana's face paled to the point of transparency, and her lips turned blue. Kurt cursed again and squeezed Santana's wrist, but it was too late. She took her last breath, staring at Brittany's covered body.

Rachel began to cry hard, for the second time that day, and Quinn just stared at Santana's body, frozen. This time, it was Blaine who vomited, disgustingly, down his immaculate plaid shirt and onto his jeans.

Kurt, not knowing what else to do, began to cry silently.

In the bushes behind the outhouse, the killer waited, and smiled.

/~/

It was late afternoon when Blaine picked the idea back up of walking down to the ranger station. He, Kurt, Rachel and Quinn were huddled by the fire pit, the two bodies covered by blankets, the stench of blood strong in the air even now, hours later.

"Where could Finn be?" whined Rachel. "He should have been back hours ago."

"We should have been out of here by noon," whispered Blaine. "We need to start walking. We can all go. Leave the stuff and let's just go and try to find someone."

"It is really strange that no one is around or has come up to check on us," worried Quinn. "When I've been camping, you at least see a ranger or two, no matter where you go."

Rachel started to cry. "I just want to leave. Kurt, what's wrong with the cars?"

Kurt put his hands over his ears. "I don't know! I can't fix them!"

Blaine finally took charge. "Let's go. Let's just start walking." He extended his hand to Kurt and his other one to Quinn. "If we can get down to the ranger station –"

"You're not going anywhere."

The voice was cold, unfamiliar, and the four Glee kids froze. Quinn was the first one to spot the killer, leaning against the tree closest to the fire pit. She gasped.

A man, no taller than Kurt himself, dressed in black, stood there. He smiled coldly. "You guys have been a lot of fun to listen to. Thinking you can outsmart me. I disabled your cars last night. I killed the little blonde one this morning, and your big guy, the one you call Finn? He's been dead for hours, about fifteen minutes from here on the main road."

Rachel made a squeaking noise, but was quickly silenced by Quinn squeezing her hand.

"It was nice of your other friend to kill herself. Saves me from doing it. Oh, and by the way? You won't see any rangers. They're dead in their station. There's no one around here for miles."

This time, Rachel's squeak couldn't be silenced, because it turned into sobbing. The killer turned to look at her.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He smiled at her, and she gasped as his teeth came into view. They were filed into points.

"I won't kill you . . . for a while. If you behave yourself, that is." He flashed his knife. "Get into the tent. Now."

Obediently, the four kids stood up, and Kurt quickly led the way to the bigger tent. The killer watched them file in, and then zipped the door closed. They could still hear his voice outside of the tent, though.

"If you're good and stay in there and try not to escape, you might see the next morning. But I guarantee, by the time anyone thinks to look for you, there's going to be no trace left of you." He unzipped the tent, and leered in at them. Quinn stifled a scream.

"I'll make it painless. If you're good."

He zipped the tent closed and they heard him whistling as sounds of digging began. Quinn, who had held it together quite admirably all this time, began to cry, and Blaine clapped a hand over her mouth. They started to talk in whispers.

"There's a back entrance to this tent. I know the way to the main ranger station, but it's going to take most of the night to get out," whispered Kurt. "I can't promise I can be back with anyone anytime soon."

"Well, what if we all tried to leave? If we all snuck out, one by one?" offered Blaine.

The tent door unzipped. "Bad idea, kiddo. Bad idea." An arm reached in and pulled Blaine out. Rachel covered her ears, but Quinn and Kurt stared at each other as the sounds of Blaine dying echoed into the gathering night.

There was a heavy sound of Blaine's body hitting the ground outside of the tent, and some glutinous sawing sounds. Then the door unzipped again when something was thrown in.

"I left you his head for company. Any more talk about escaping and I guarantee none of the rest of you is going to see the night through. Sleep well!"

Blaine's stricken expression stared glassily up at them and Rachel turned into Quinn while Kurt stared uncomprehendingly at his boyfriend's head. Was this seriously happening to them? Seriously?

Time passed. They didn't hear from the killer for awhile, but they knew he was there, burying bodies. They wondered if Finn's body was buried there, too, and Rachel opined that she had no idea how the killer would be able to move Finn easily without a car. That led Quinn to wonder whether he did have a car, and whether it was close by. Kurt said nothing, but he kept his eyes trained on the door, watching the shadow of the killer move back and forth in the moonlight.

Eventually, the tent door unzipped. "Anyone hungry? No? Good. I just finished the big guy's liver. Very tasty." He leered in at them, his face bloody. "More for me." He surveyed them all and then threw in a flashlight. "Here. I figure I should at least make it fair, so that you can see me coming."

He left the tent and Rachel trained her sharp ears towards the road. They'd heard sounds of traffic driving by, and wondered if the rangers from the main station were looking after this part of the park now. Quinn thought they would have found the dead rangers at the station by now, and Kurt had agreed with that. Now they were keeping an ear on the road and praying for a ranger vehicle to check in on the only campsite occupied for two miles.

They heard the killer get up, stretch, and then piss on the ground outside of the tent. Beyond that, though, Rachel picked up the sound of a car approaching.

"Do you guys hear that?" Her whisper was almost inaudible. "There's a car coming."

Kurt listened, too, and his mouth fell open. "You're right."

Quinn listened out the tiny airhole left in the tent's door and put her eye up to it. The killer had sat down next to the fire, which he'd started an hour ago, and was reading something by flashlight. He seemed completely absorbed, and Quinn turned back and nodded at the two other kids.

"Go."

Kurt crept forward, the killer's flashlight in hand, and unzipped the tent little by little, trying to time his movements with the crackling of the fire. He managed to get an opening in the door just big enough to slip out of, and then he slipped out the tent door, making no noise at all. Once he was past the cars, he knew the killer couldn't possibly hear him. He ran towards the road.

The headlights on the road were growing brighter every second. In desperation, Kurt began to flash the SOS distress signal his father had taught him at the age of five. He heard the engine like a roaring in his ears, and after another moment, he felt a trickle of uncomfortable warmth in his pants and knew he'd lost control of his bladder.

The ranger's truck came into view and slowed down beside the desperate boy, still flashing his flashlight. "Is there a problem, son?"

"You need to come, now. We're the only campsite for miles. People are dying. People are dead. You need to come now."

He opened the back door of the ranger truck and climbed in. "The driveway is right here. Hurry."

Holding on desperately to the back of the ranger's seat, his breathing was so loud that he thought he was going to pass out. "You need to hurry. Hurry."

They turned into the driveway of the campsite.

/~/

The killer stood over Rachel and Quinn.

"Where's your boyfriend?"

"He had to pee," lied Quinn. "He'll be back in a second."

"Really? Because I looked all over the campsite before I came to the tent, and he's not here. And what's that?" The killer cocked his head towards the road. "Is that a truck on the road?"

The knife flashed once, and Rachel was dead, her throat slit. Quinn threw up her arms to protect herself, but it didn't work. Another flash of the knife. More blood on the floor of the tent. The killer smiled.

Camp breakdown was so easy. He threw the bloody tent and the two bodies into the back of Finn's truck and looked at the campsite. So tidy. So perfect.

As the truck approached on the main road, the killer melted into the shadows beside the truck, pulled out some wires from his pocket, rehooking the engine, and got in Finn's truck. He pulled out into the opposite direction across the next campsite, to his camp on the other side of the park just as the truck approached the driveway of the campsite.

Those stupid kids never knew what hit them.

/~/

Kurt jumped from the truck, his legs going so fast that he stumbled twice before coming into the clearing. Then, he gasped.

There was one tent standing. There was only his SUV parked outside of the campsite. It was like there had never been anyone but Kurt here at all.

The rangers looked at him quizzically. "I don't see the problem, kiddo."

"There were seven of us! There were seven kids, another tent, another truck . . ." Kurt stumbled around the campsite, feeling along the packed earth. "Where are the bodies? Where are Brittany and Santana and Finn? Where are Rachel and Quinn and Blaine?"

The ranger put his hand on Kurt's back. "It's okay, buddy. We'll get you back to the station and home. Beaver fever, maybe," he said to his partner, who nodded.

"Did you drink the lake water, son?"

"They were here! We waited . . . we could have waited forever, but I got out, I found you . . ."

"Okay. It's okay, son. We'll get you home, all right?"

As they led him past the fire pit, it was as if nothing had ever happened. There were no bodies. No evidence.

Only the blood-splashed stone and blackened horseradish lid in the fire told Kurt that it really had.


End file.
